Whose Apocalypse is it Anyway?
by Unwittingly
Summary: SPN/Zombieland crossover: The Winchesters vs. Witchita & Little Rock. I don't know who's winning, but you should probably place your bets now.


Spoilers: None

Pairing: None

Rating: R for language? IDK.

A/N: I wrote this as part of a request in a writing challenge I'm in. Any and all feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

* * *

Dean is a fairly indulgent man when it comes to reckless behavior and pretty girls, but especially when it comes to Sam. You'd be hard pressed to find something he _wouldn't_ do for the kid, and even harder pressed to get him to say no when Sam asks for something. Rough and tough exterior but the man's basically a soccer mom when it comes to his baby brother. '_Go, Sammy, go! Aim for his ankles!_' Yeah, he's plenty indulgent. But this?

This is just fucking ridiculous.

"Not a chance in Hell, Sammy," Dean growls, fingers wringing the Impala's wheel in a death grip because he _wishes_ that could ever be the final word. But Sam is and forever will be the master of the bitch-face, and it never ceases to be a pain in Dean's ass.

"C'mon, Dean. They need help!" Hands splayed out in frustration, body angled toward him and eyes pleading like that'll sell this bullshit as fast as Girlscout cookies in front of a Walmart and _goddamn_, does Dean love him some cookies.

"Maybe you didn't get the memo, but the whole friggin' world needs our help right now, Sam. What part of 'zombie apocalypse, R.E.M end of the world as we know it' don't you understand?"

"Alright, so it's every other Thursday for us. Fine. But who knows when the next car is gonna pass by? We can't just leave them out there."

"No. No way, man, I am _not_ turning around." Sam's glare is unrelenting and burns holes in the side of Dean's head, has the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge, and he is not caving to this, okay? "I said _no_, Sam," he barks in the most John-esque manner he can, which gets the younger Winchester to huff in frustration and slump down in his seat. It almost seems like he might concede there, but then he breaks out the puppy eyes and good _Lord_ does this kid know how to squeeze Dean for everything he's worth. "_Fine_!" Dean finally shouts, arms raising rather dangerously off the wheel in a dramatic surrender. He slams them back down with a _thud!_ and goes right back to wringing them in annoyance. "Fine. Jesus H. Christ. Call off the friggin' Inquisition, I'll turn around."

Without giving the break pedal even an inkling of a thought, he whips the car around, fishtailing the rear into the gravel on the side of the road and kicking up a storm behind them. Sam's just pleasant as fucking _peaches_, but he knows better than to make any sort of comment on Dean's sudden change of heart.

Mother bear to the core, but nowhere near above beating on his cub.

The two girls waving down assistance with an old shirt quickly came back into view, Dean grumbling and bitching and spewing random complaints like 'getting your panties in a twist over some friggin' skirts on the side of the road' and 'she is _too young_ for you, Sammy. Don't care how hot she is, she's too friggin' young' all the way to the moment he stops the car a few yards away from them. "I swear to God, as Cas is my witness, Sammy," he growls, grabbing his pistol from the dash and tucking it into his jacket then pointing a threatening finger in Sam's face, "if these girls try to make a Manwich out of me, I am **eating** your ass." Sam stifles a grin in response and Dean rolls his eyes, kicking open his door and getting out in a huff. The damsels in distress bounce towards them excitedly when they see the boys and Dean just isn't having any of that shit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up," he calls to them, stepping out in front of his baby to be joined by Sam. "We're not having any John Ryder shit here, okay? I'm not letting just anyone in my car."

"Dean..." Sam starts, but he holds up a finger to stop him before he can say anything. Driver gets to call the shots, especially when he's only humoring his little brother. This Dude? Does not abide.

He points that same finger back to the girls, "Names. Let's have 'em."

The two share a look and the older one speaks up. She isn't exactly soft spoken, but there's a certain cautiousness about her that makes Dean uneasy. The moment the words leave her lips, he knows she's gonna be trouble. "Well, how do we know you're not like, rapists or something? Tell us yours first."

Well, whaddya know? Gut instincts win, yet again. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm really not in the mood to play _games_-"

"And _I'm_ not about to let my little sister get in some pervert's car." Arms crossed, head raised - 100% attitude and isn't that just _great_? Dean purses his lips and inhales shortly, then turns to Sam to speak through gritted teeth.

"I'munna shoot her, Sammy. I'm gonna shoot her, and I'm gonna say she was a zombie. Do you see those eyes? She's gonna eat us alive."

Sam rolls his eyes with a sigh and turns him away from the girls to avoid any further conflict. "Look, I promise we're not here to hurt you." _Speak for yourself, friggin' Boy Scout._"I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean."

The older sister takes a second to respond, and Dean can just _hear_ the smug victory in her voice. "I'm Witchita. She's Little Rock."

"Oh _come on_, man! They won't even give us their real names!" Dean can't believe his brother's buying into this, but Sam just gives him that look; that stupid, all-knowing _look_that says he 'understands' them or some crap like that. "Un-fucking-believable."

"We're heading to Sioux Falls, and you're welcome to come with if you want."

"**Sam**..."

"What's in Sioux Falls?"

"...Someone that can help."

"Huh," he hears her say, and suddenly they're both walking past him to the passenger seat. 'Witchita' or whatever turns to smirk at him as she passes then continues to the door, "Didn't there there _was_ anyone that could help us anymore."

Once they're inside and out of earshot, Dean turns to Sam with bloody murder in his eyes and the younger brother just shrugs then heads for shotgun before he can get a word off. He turns back to the car and sees Little Rock messing with the Army man stuck in the door handle. "Oh _Hell_ no." He stalks back to the driver's seat and all but rips open the door before plopping his less-than-happy ass onto the bench. After adjusting the rear-view so that both girls are in view he glowers back at them and speaks firmly, "Alright, house rules, ladies. Number one? _Do not touch anything._" Little Rock catches on and stops messing with the door and opts to cross her arms over her chest instead. Both of 'em, chock full of attitude. Awesome. "Number two? I'm not playing baby sitter. We stop when we need to stop, and if you need to tinkle? I can't guarantee I'll find a truck stop so you better be comfortable with popping a squat." Sam shakes his head and stares out the window, clearly annoyed, which Dean is definitely counting as a victory.

"Last but not least?" and now there's a small smirk forcing its way onto his lips, "My car, my rules. No bitching." Witchita looks pissed and Little Rock's staring right back at him in the mirror, Dean's smirk now at full blast because he is way okay with that. He starts up the car and turns the radio back on, Foreigner's guitars blaring throughout the car at way too high a volume, and it isn't three seconds later when the younger sister speaks up.

"What's wrong with your music?"

_...This has gotta be the worst friggin' day ever._


End file.
